Survive the Walking Dead
by angelina1991
Summary: The story is set in Los Angeles and the main characters are teenagers. We see young criminals in juvie who experience a zombie outbreak while law students are visiting the prison, teenagers participating the Junior Olympics and a cop who is trying to stop violence that spreads among people.


"Where is my mother?!" Robbie shouts, hitting the bars to make noise. "Let me out you fuckers, I want my mother!"

He has spent almost five years in juvie and in the meantime made half a dozen cellmates beg for transfer. Unlucky for them, the guards proved to be immune to begging, but it at least entertained Robbie.

"Do you think they will?" Evan asks. He is lying on his bed in the neighbor cell, his long black hair spread on the pillow. He keeps an even tone though the only weapon he has - a penknife - has been in his hand for hours.

"What?" Robbie asks, temporarily distracted from making noise.

"Do you think you will be set free just because you want to meet your mother?"

"They promised..."

"They aren't people who keep their promises," Evan says. "And you won't achieve anything by acting like an idiot." He stands up from his bed, stretches his arms and walks to the wall between them, as close to Robbie as he can get. "You're right. We should get out of here because something is off: no phones, no visitors, guards shitting their pants... I'm not staying here either."

"Really? Are you going to walk out?" Robbie says in a voice he usually uses with his cellmates.

Evan leans his head against the wall between him and Robbie.

"There is chaos out there," he whispers. "We can use it against them. But we need to be clever."

Before Robbie could answer, the iron door at the end of the corridor opens, and two guards march in with their weapons in their hands. One of them is Martinez – he is in his fifties, almost completely bold, with a scar running through his left cheek, up on his skull where his hair used to be. Evan narrows his eyes when he looks at the scar. The other guard is young, he has started working in the prison recently. His forehead is sweating. It was the ones like him who warned the inmates something happened outside – they couldn't hide their fear.

"Visitors!" Martinez bellows.

Excited sounds come from the cells, but Martinez cuts them off shortly.

"Silence! They are not your buddies, they are law students who want to see where the trash of society ended up. You behave well or I will see to that you will enjoy the rest of the day with me!"

Evan peeks out from his cell, careful to avoid being seen by Martinez. Behind the guards there are three students and their teacher. One of the students is a tall guy with a confident look in his eyes – maybe too confident considering where they are. A girl with red hair is standing beside him, as if she was seeking shelter.

Figures are slowly appearing behind the bars, their eyes fixed on the students. Evan is sure most of them don't even blink. It's a rare occasion they see people from the outside world, especially in the last few weeks.

The red-haired girl draws closer to the tall guy so their arms almost touch. Evan suspects they are a couple.

"This is the section where we keep the most vicious ones," Martinez explains, walking slowly down the corridor, with each step closer to Evan. "I'm happy we are not housing the people they killed. We would need a lot more room."

The red-haired girl flinches.

"I don't think it's proper to make jokes like that," the teacher turns to Martinez.

"Of course," the guard smiles without the slightest hint of being sorry.

Evan focuses his attention on the third student. He looks like the silent type, the one others forget about. He doesn't seem nearly as scared as the girl, but also not as nonchalant as the tall guy. He glances into a cell and stops, as if he was waiting for the others to get a little further, then takes a step towards the bars. It's probably too dark inside for him to see anything, the tiny windows barely let in the light.

"Hi, darling," a figure emerges right behind the bars – he is completely bald with tattooes all over his body. Flames cover his arms, and there are two crossed knives on his neck.

The student jerks back.

"He is locked," Martinez says in a mocking voice. "You don't need to be afraid of him. And despite his look, Sidney appreciates good company."

"What's your name?" Sidney asks.

"Tom," the student says after a moment of hesitation. He looks at Martinez."What did he commit?"

"Homicide."

"I killed my boyfriend," Sidney explains.

"I suppose he wasn't good company," the tall guy comments. His tone is nearly as flat as Sidney's.

Sidney slowly turns to him.

"I'm gonna remember you," he whispers.

"That's enough! Back off!" Martinez steps to the cell, making Sidney reluctantly return to his bed. "We have a few animals like him, but most of them can be broken. Here is an exception: Robbie Stevens," when they reach his cell, Martinez introduces Robbie as if he was some kind of a celebrity. "He is our little devil here."

Evan listens closely but hears nothing from the "devil's" cell. Maybe Robbie took his advice.

"We originally separated this section because of him," Martinez explains. "He couldn't be left with other inmates. There is something wrong with his head, I told them when they transferred him from the psychos. I even told them to fucking bring him back but they weren't too fond of him. They say he is merely antisocial." Martinez sniffs. "He made his last cellmate cut his wrists. He even showed him how to do it so he surely bleeds to death."

"You need to do it vertical." Robbie appears at the bars, staring straight at the red-haired girl who is so close he could easily touch her, but he doesn't.

The girl jumps, and hides behind his boyfriend.

Martinez would probably comment what happened, but his radio gives a signal and he walks off to talk. When he returns, he has a subdued conversation with the other guard who looks more nervous with each second. And more sweaty.

"I'm sorry, but I need to go back to the office," Martinez tells the group.

"Is there a problem?" the professor asks.

"No, it's only an administrative error. I will be back soon, and in the meantime James will answer your questions."

He leaves with hurried steps. Evan tightens his grip around the penkife – everyone knows Martinez hasn't done any administrative work in years, it's up to the younger officers. Which means he is lying. But why?

It might be confidential information, though it's unlikely they would discuss it on the radio. No, something must have happened that made him leave immediately, and he doesn't want neither the inmates nor the students to know about it.

Evan touches the bars. If they weren't locked...

Martinez pushes the button of the elevator impatiently. Who the hell is using it when he needs it?

"Alvarez, what's going on?" he speaks into the radio. First the answer is only a cracking noise, then he hears Alvarez's terrified voice.

"Boss, it's freaking hell in Section B! They broke through the door, nobody could stop them. So far there are ten guards reported dead."

Martinez sighs. Ten dead people and a riot is definitely something he will have to explain later to _his_ bosses.

"What about the other guards?"

Silence

"Alvarez!"

"They ran."

"They what?!"

"Boss, most of them are Christians. And they have families at home."

The elevator finally arrives. Martinez steps into it and presses number three.

"How close are the infected to Section C?" he asks. Section C is the one where he left those damn students.

Martinez thought the order that no visitors were allowed applied to them as well, but it seemed the professor wasn't willing to skip this semester's trip and had friends at the right places.

"They left Section B, and are currently heading to the entrance of Section C," Alvarez says. "They are moving slowly because they are... distracted by the bodies."

"Bodies of who?" Martinez asks.

"The dead guards."

"Any dead inmates?" Martinez starts to grow tired of having to ask every detail one by one.

"Only two I have seen on the cameras. The bastards have already woken up."

When the elevator finally stops, Martinez jumps out and runs to the office.

Alvarez is sitting in his chair – he is too fat to take up a comfortable position so he is half slid down from the chair -, staring at the cameras that cover the wall. Every single one of them is showing the corridor between Section B and C, and even Martinez, who has seen plenty of things throughout his career, holds his breath for a second.

Inmates are everywhere. Martinez counts fifteen and nearly throws up when he sees three hunched over the torn corpse of a guard. He even knows his name: Victor Jefferson, he used to work in a private jail but got into some quarrel and ended up here. On the floor. His guts in the mouth of some fifteen year old who was busted for theft.

"What the fuck happened to them?" he leans closer to the monitor.

"It's obviously the plague," Alvarez says.

"There is no plague until they say so." Martinez shoots him a scolding look but he silently admits Alvarez is right. It's obviously the plague and if he lets out even one of those sick bastards, they will crucify him. If he is lucky, only professionally.

"I don't like them wandering around there," he says.

"Me neither," Alvarez nods, pointing at one of the monitors. "If they stay on the corridor, sooner or later they will discover the steps, and it's only two doors from there to leave the building. Neither of those doors is fortified." He pauses. "Boss, I know you said we have to deal with this without notifying Mr Brighton, but maybe it's time to reconsider."

Martinez lowers his head. He has no other choice. Maybe he has already waited too long.

"Talk to him," he nods. "Ask for additional forces."

They both know it takes at least twenty minutes for the additional forces to arrive. The infected will sooner find their way into different sections, maybe even out.

"Only food keeps them in one place," he wonders.

Alvarez jerks his head up. His eyes are wide. He has been working with Martinez for almost twenty years.

"Open the door to Section C," Martinez gives the order, though the other has already figured out what he wanted to do. "Give them food."

"But..."

"Do it! We will be forgiven a lot easier if this situation results the dead bodies of a few high security inmates than unleashed infected who wander around the city."

"What about the student?"

"They went against the order that no visitors are allowed. I'm not responsible for them." He straightens his back and watches the monitors. "Open the door. And the cells."


End file.
